Those Damn Canadian Blizzards
by OwlinAMinor
Summary: Gilbert is too awesome to be taken down by a little Canadian blizzard ... right?  PruCan.  Oneshot.


**THOSE DAMN CANADIAN BLIZZARDS**

**RATING: T**

**PAIRING: PruCan  
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**GENRE: Humor & Romance  
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**DESCRIPTION: ****Gilbert is too awesome to be taken down by a little Canadian blizzard ... right?  
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**LENGTH: Oneshot.**

**POV: 3****rd**** person.**

**WHAT I DON'T OWN BUT WISH I DID: Gil and Mattie.**

**A/N: I took a bit of time off from NaNoWriMo to write this for AskPrussia's contest on deviantART. Enjoy the PruCan-y goodness. :)  
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* * *

><p>Matthew Williams woke to the sound of his phone blasting <em>I'm Awesome<em> by Spose.

It could only mean one thing:

His boyfriend was calling him.

The Canadian groaned into his pillow, wondering if he really had to get it. Lying face-down on one's bed is not the easiest position to wrestle oneself out of, especially at a time like – he checked his watch – four A.M.

If he didn't get it, on the other hand, he'd have to deal with an irritated – and, though he wouldn't show it, hurt – Gil. Which, if you don't know, is about as enjoyable as being captured by a horny Frenchman.

I.e. not enjoyable at all.

Matthew sighed, reached out to his night table without changing his position on the bed, and grabbed his phone, knocking over his glasses in the process. He opened it and turned his head to the side so that he could talk without needing to sit up.

"Hey, Gil, what's up?"

"The ceiling, _kesese_!~" the Prussian laughed on the other end of the line, causing some static sound waves to go haywire. "_Gott_, that joke never gets old."

"_Unnnmph_." The Canadian had no idea what that sound meant – disapproval, probably. He honestly didn't have the energy to deal with stupid jokes at this time of the morning.

Gilbert's voice took on a tone of concern. "You okay, Birdie?"

"Just tired."

"Huh? Why?"

"It's kind-of four in the morning, in case you haven't noticed."

"It is?"

Matthew would have face-palmed if he wasn't still lying on his stomach. "You forgot about the time change again, didn't you?"

"Maaaaybe."

"Of course. And maybe means yes, _oui_?"

"Hey, Birdie, guess what?" Gilbert asked quickly, changing the subject.

"You finally got Gilbird de-clawed?"

"No! I would never do something un-awesome as that to my awesome Gilbird! Anyway, the news is: I'm flying to Toronto! I got a really cheap flight, and I'm gonna be in Canada by early tomorrow morning – er, tonight, your time! Isn't that awesome, Birdie? It is, isn't it?"

"Sure, just –" Matthew started to say that it really wasn't the best time, as there was a snowstorm due for the afternoon of the next day – probably the reason the flight had been so cheap – but he was cut off.

"I knew you'd agree with me! Hey, what do you think we should do while the awesome me is there? Oh, I know! We should go skiing! Or maybe sledding! Or we could drive to that almost-as-awesome-as-I-am tubing place near Montreal and spend, like, an entire week there tubing and freaking out passers-by and generally being awesome, or …"

The Canadian felt his powers of invisibility coming in again. He probably wouldn't be able to get a word in edgewise for the entire rest of the conversation. Oh, joy.

"… anyway, I have to go now; West is yelling at me for something. Don't forget to be awesome, Birdie, and I'll see you soon! Love you."

The line went dead with a click.

Matthew sighed. "Love you, too."

Insane worrying about whether or not Gil would be okay: _activate._

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

><p>"Attention, passengers. This is your pilot speaking. We are now arriving in Toronto, Canada."<p>

_It's about fucking time, _Gilbert Beilschmidt thought, yawning and stretching in his seat, his ear buds – blasting German metal – falling out of his ears. Sure, plain rides were nice and all, with their cushy seats and in-flight movies and cute flight attendants who always tried to flirt with him (their expressions when he told them he had a boyfriend never failed to be the best part), but a nine-hour transatlantic flight from Berlin to Toronto sure could get _boring_. Even imagining the awesome things he would do to Mattie the next time they fucked got old after a while. And he could keep at _that_ for hours.

…

Not that he was a pervert or anything. That was Francis' job.

…

Anyway.

The Prussian successfully ignored the rest of the pilot's speech as he stuffed all his crap into a black shoulder bag, shut down his laptop, and located his jacket from where it had slipped under the seat – or at least, he _did_, until he heard, "Also, the control tower has asked me to notify you that a huge blizzard is coming our way and will most likely begin in about half an hour. Please refrain from driving or walking anywhere until it is over."

"_Refrain from driving or walking anywhere until it is over?"_ Gilbert thought with a mental snort. _They obviously don't know who they're talking to. Blizzards run from the mere __**thought**__ of meeting my awesomeness. I could drive through a blizzard in my fucking __**sleep**__._

The fact that he would have to drive for an hour and then walk for another ten minutes to find his boyfriend's extremely secluded log cabin didn't bother him.

Not. One. Bit.

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><p>When Matthew came inside from an hour spent chopping firewood – a blizzard meant a ninety percent chance of power outage for him – it was already starting to snow. The flurries weren't too dangerous at the moment and the wind hadn't picked up yet, but he hadn't heard any birds chirping the entire time he was out, meaning much heavier stuff was on the way.<p>

_I came in just in time_, he thought proudly, taking off his coat and hanging it on the back of a chair. Just then, the Canadian noticed that his phone was flashing – a text message was awaiting him.

He opened the message to find:

_5:06 P.M._

_To: Birdie_

_From: The Awesome Gil_

_just got my rental car & am on my way. ill c u in an hour._

_cant wait._

_love,_

_ur awesome boyfriend_

_Does he even __**know**__ that there's a snowstorm coming?_ Matthew wondered.

_Probably not_, he answered himself. _And if he does know, he doesn't care._

_I really hope he's okay._

* * *

><p>Two hours, twenty calls, three times mopping the floor, five pacing sessions, ten staring contests with lamps, fifteen games of Solitaire, and eight batches of pancakes later, Gilbert was obviously <em>not<em> okay.

Matthew looked at the storm raging outside, which was using a combination of snow, sleet, and winds powerful enough to knock over a house if it wasn't careful to make visibility a complete impossibility. He had no choice, really.

He was going to have to go outside in it.

The Canadian grabbed a couple coats, a fur hat, gloves, a flashlight, and several choice curse words, and stepped outside into the blizzard worthy of his top ten worst storms of all time list.

* * *

><p>Gilbert awoke to the smell of maple syrup.<p>

He was lying on a couch covered in various blankets, coats, and what might have been a moose hide, wearing nothing but his underwear. A fire was blazing in the fireplace next to him. It seemed to be laughing at him for being stupid enough to go outside in a blizzard – a blizzard which he could see still going on from a conveniently-placed window – but that was okay, since it was helping him get warm anyway. When he turned his head, he could see into a kitchen, where a very familiar and very delicious ass was visible underneath the back of a body, the body that was clearly responsible for the maple syrup smell, as it was currently engaged in the art of pancake-making.

"Hey, Birdie," he called to aforementioned body. "Come over here so the awesome me can fondle your awesome butt. I'm too lazy to walk over there."

A loose strand of hair on top of the Canadian's head stood straight upright, then turned in the Prussian's direction. The man's blushing face soon followed.

And then, Gilbert was being glomptackled like he'd never been glomptackled before.

Matthew was gripping Gilbert's shoulders like he never wanted to let go, pressing his face into Gilbert's chest, alternately punching and kissing Gilbert's face, and jabbering to Gilbert in words so rapid it took the man some time to realize it was English.

"… you _idiot_! You damned, stupid, Prussian –"

"Awesome," the idiot in question added.

"– _un-awesome_ idiot! You should have stayed at the airport! I don't care about your stupid, overlarge ego that wouldn't let you stay _safe_ no matter how dangerous it is outside! Do you have any idea how worried I was? Too worried, that's how! I was walking around looking for you for _hours_! Well, maybe it wasn't hours, but it seemed like hours! Why couldn't you have waited until the storm passed, eh? What was so bad about that? ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?"

To answer Matthew's question, no, Gilbert wasn't listening. He was too busy staring at his boyfriend's flustered, angry, redder-than-a-maple-leaf, utterly _adorable_ face.

"You're really cute when you're mad," he told the Canadian.

Totally taken by surprise, Matthew sputtered and then said, "Um, thanks."

Okay, that was too much. Gilbert probably wouldn't have been able to stop himself even if he'd wanted to from seizing Mattie's face and kissing him silly.

* * *

><p>About ten minutes later, a breathless Canadian demanded, "Promise me you'll never make me worry like that again."<p>

"Why should I? I'll always have you to save me."

"I won't be around to save you any more if you keep putting yourself into danger like that, you … you _dummkopf!_"

"You're cute when you speak German, too."

"_Promise me!_"

"Okay, fine. I promise I'll never make you worry like that again. Can we make out more now?"

"…"

"I'll take that as a yes."

"…"

"I love you, Gil."

"Love you, too, Mattie."

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><p><strong>And then, they had sex. Multiple times. (After all, they couldn't go anywhere because of the snow and had nothing better to do.)<strong>

**It made Gil's tubing idea pretty painful, though ...**

**(By the way, that tubing place actually exists. It's outside Montreal; I went there on a school trip a couple years ago. And it is freaking AWESOME.)  
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**Reviews are loved as much as Grandmano loves her bazooka. ;D**


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